In Memory, In Logic
by enigma-kar
Summary: Spock watches Kirk and McCoy as they remember those they've lost and realises that not everything is as illogical as he thinks. More angsty, fluffy McKirk now with added Spock.


**Disclaimer: **Star Trek (2009, or other) does not belong to me.

_I bring more Kirk/McCoy - this time with added Spock. Enjoy, read and please review. :) _

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**In Memory, In Logic**

Dr. Leonard McCoy sat in heavy, almost deafening silence. The room was empty, covered in shadows and at times there was a hint of old candle wax in the air, a scent that was obviously out of place on the modern starship. Taking a deep breath and after many minutes of sitting still, the doctor leaned forward placing his head in his hands.

Moments later he moved again; stepping towards the stand he picked out a single candle and lit it. The light brightened the room and despite the occasion, McCoy gave a slight smile before falling back into the seat.

In the shift, a single tear fell to the floor and splashed across the tiles.

~ XX ~

After nearly an hour of searching Captain Kirk found his Chief Medical Officer; in the ship's chapel of all places.

"Bones?" The seated figure visibly stiffened and Kirk's frown deepened. "Bones?"

McCoy didn't turn, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the lit candle in front of him. Hearing the captain's footsteps approaching, McCoy swallowed roughly and let out a somewhat shuddering sigh.

"What are you doing in here?" Kirk kept his voice soft as he sat down beside the other. "I didn't know you were religious."

"I'm not," McCoy replied. "But my mother was." And he nodded to the single lit candle as way of explanation.

"Oh, Bones..." Kirk said in sudden understanding and he wrapped an arm around McCoy in comfort, unaware that the gesture nearly brought the medical officer to the brink of tears. "You should have said something. I would have..."

"What, Jim?" McCoy choked out, looking up into Kirk's eyes somewhat sceptically. "Given me the day off? You know it would have been a struggle for them down in sick bay."

Kirk broke into a weak smile, that was his Bones; always thinking of the welfare of the crew. "No, I would have been there for you," and he gently brought the other's head toward him, pressing a light kiss on the smooth skin of his temple.

"You are now," Bones pointed out, shifting slightly to lean into the embrace more. He felt Kirk nod against him and the two sat in comfortable silence for an age, memories and thoughts drifting between life, death and love.

"Tell me about her," Kirk broke the silence. "Your mother."

"Not much to tell, really," McCoy admitted and the captain tightened his embrace in a reassuring squeeze. "She died when I was seven. Dad was never the same after..."

"I know," Kirk muttered suddenly and it was then that McCoy remembered the story of the captain's own parents. Mentally cursing for not remembering, the medic withdrew from the embrace. Ignoring Kirk's confused and slightly hurt look, McCoy took out the small box of matches.

"Light one for your father, Jim."

Kirk nodded and numbly took the match box. He'd never known his father and never thought of remembering him in this way. He stood, stepping towards the stand and simultaneously lighting a match, Kirk brought life to the previously unlit candle next to the one for Bones' mother. He froze, watching the light waver and flicker, before growing to a strong flame. It was almost hypnotic. The box of matches slipped from his grip, falling onto the floor and shaking him from his reverie.

And suddenly Bones was there. He watched through blurred vision as the medic picked up the box and quickly pocketed it. Kirk became aware of wetness on his face and he realised he was crying. Reaching up to wipe the offending tears away he was stopped by a gentle, yet firm hand. McCoy slowly brushed the tears away, before enveloping Kirk in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry, Jim," he muttered.

"Me too, Bones," came the thick reply.

And time lost all meaning as the pair stood together, leaning on each other both physically and emotionally. Wrapped up in their own world and unbeknownst to them both, a figure stood watching them from the doorway.

Spock had always seen the act of religion and faith in humans as illogical. However, watching the captain and the doctor together, he felt something in his being change. While it made no sense to believe in a greater God, the act of remembering one's past loved ones was sound logic. At the thought his heart gave a strange and painful tug. Pushing the emotion back with a well practised motion, Spock glanced one last, almost longing, look at the embracing couple before nodding slighting to himself and then leaving.

~ XX ~

Exactly five hours later, the Vulcan stood in the now empty and dark room; the two previously lit candles had burnt out. Reaching out, Spock lit a candle. He wavered for a moment as he considered re-lighting two more to replace the now dead ones. In the end he left it; he had never known the captain's father or the doctor's mother and decided it would have been grossly inappropriate.

He lit just a single one. For his human mother. The mother he had lost on the same day he lost his home world. Because now he understood, while the dead were gone, he could always remember them. With a candle lit in her memory he would always remember her.

And against all his Vulcan upbringing and hiding of emotions, a single tear fell to the floor and splashed across the tiles.


End file.
